The Star in the Lion's Paw
by AlexaVolta
Summary: A prequel story about the life of La (a Tarzan character who was born in Atlantis circa 1750 B.C.) before she became Queen of Opar. Her twin brother Ka grew up to be King Kashekem of Atlantis. Born into royalty, La is exiled from Atlantis at a young age for murdering her grandfather. This is the story of her time in exile. Rated for violent and sexual content. Feedback encouraged.
1. Chapter 1

What I've been told of my origins is that The God of the Sea, having laid waste to Atlantis at the command of The God of the Sky, gazed in regret upon her now desolate people and came out of the sea. He took the form of a stallion and sought the most beautiful and divine of the Atlantean centaurs (a species they created in encomium to he) and lay with her. From that union came twins – a boy and a girl. That was me, and my brother. From the earliest I can recall, it was generally perceived that our purpose on earth was to restore Atlantis to her former magnificence.

As far as I know (from the accounts of others of course) that was the only known time when our adored, divine, sexually prolific father pursued a female (of any species) solely for the purpose of impregnating her. It seems more plausible that he'd rather observed that intriguing, bespoke creature lolling about enticingly by the sea and thought 'I'd like some of that', and my brother and I were an accident. Perhaps, as many peopled tattled, he wasn't even our father, and we were changelings spirited away by our centaur mother. Or maybe we were just a pair of no-account bastards – one man's trash, another centaur's political propaganda. Looking back now from such a distance, the truth doesn't really matter anymore.

Actually, looking back, the narrative becomes pretty hazy. It all happened a very long time ago, and a lot of the details escape me. I don't know exactly when I was born, and I'm sorry to say that I can't make much of a guess at it either. In the time since, there were many periods of my life where I stopped trying to measure time. When you're immortal, time rather loses its significance.

One of the few measurements of time that people seemed to be aware of was that our birth came round-about 300 years after Atlantis was destroyed (for the first, but not only time this had happened). During that period, the depleted population had managed to achieve such a level of inbreeding that the current generation almost universally displayed the same odd assortment of dominant genetic features that became characteristic of my race – dark skin. Silvery-white hair. Blue-green eyes. It's amazing that they weren't all cross-eyed with extra fingers, but perhaps that's one of the perks of divine DNA. Coincidentally (or not), my brother and I also shared those telling attributes.

It's strange what my memory chooses to hold on to and what it omits. For example, the face of my brother Ka, whose company I barely left for more than a decade, is lost to me. On the other hand, I spent little more than a couple of years with our mother, yet I remember her perfectly. After that period, she was spotted by a local king, who enticed her into his bed and knocked her up. Our mother was so desperately ashamed to tell our grandfather that when the Goddess Artemis passed our mother lamenting in the forests of Mount Pelion she sent her straight to heaven (you'll see her up there as the constellation Equus, or so they say). Incidentally, I've heard that her illegitimate daughter (our half-sister) later caught our supposed-father's eye and he raped her (this time in the form of a bull, the kinky fellow) and got her pregnant too. Do you see where I'm coming from with him?

One only had to look at our mother, Hippe, to understand why she was an object of all this royal desire and inspiration. She was a sublime young filly with slender legs and curly ankles. Her shining coat was auburn and her skin was pale as marble, her dark eyes sparkled with the reds and yellows of topaz, and her untamed carmine locks spiralled and glowed like fiery passion. I remember that her human breasts were almost pre-pubescently undeveloped, and I don't recall ever being fed like that, though perhaps I'd have been too young to remember. After she ran off with the king and vanished from our lives, my brother cried for weeks. I remember that, but I don't remember feeling sorrow myself. I wasn't a very sentimental child.

After she'd gone, our grandfather Chiron took us under his care and tutorage. I think we were four or five years old. Shortly after that Grandfather started his campaign to spread news of Atlantis' imminent 'salvation' by touring us around what remained of her once far reaching and imposing empire. After the continent was flooded, the remaining population had crawled up to where the tops of hills and mountain peaks still remained as scattered islands poking out of the turbulent waves. The pre-flood Atlanteans (or rather, their government) had made a lot of enemies because of their constant campaigns of war and invasion, and now that the tables had turned her people remained exiled and friendless. There was little land left suitable for agriculture, so food was scarce. Some people had managed to build meagre vessels seaworthy enough to carry them from island to island, not in the hope of finding new land to pitch up on, but to prevent them from having to copulate with their siblings in order to produce offspring. The world, as we knew it, was in a sorry state.

Once again I feel I must apologise for the lack of detail that I'll be able to recount about events in my life which would probably have been enthralling, unbelievable, and otherwise mind-boggling to have witnessed. I also have difficulty separating what I remember from things I heard, thought, or dreamed happened. I remember bits of the early campaign as Grandfather took us from island to island, getting people's attention by showing off the gifts we'd been endowed with – or, as I recall it, the tricks he'd taught us. That isn't to say that we were all show – Grandfather was training us hard in our respective fields, which, for my brother Ka was logic and puzzles, and for me was sorcery. But we also knew how to please a crowd.

One event that coincided with our birth, and doubtlessly counted as favourable evidence in our case as demi-gods, was the appearance in the sky over the forlornly crumbling central palace-come-temple of Atlantis a bright azure-white star. 'Star', though the most appropriate word anybody could come up with to explain the thing, did not really cover it. This star had truly fallen and now hovered perpetually, a man's height above the highest spindly steeple of the palace (which itself was three quarters submerged). The Star's light penetrated a great amount of distance around it, but its brightness was equal, regardless of how near or far from it you happened to be. Weirdly, wherever you stood your shadow was always directly below you (except during the day when the sun cast its own shadows), and The Star shone brightly, day and night. It played havoc with people's sleeping patterns, I can tell you.

Grandfather told people we met to go forth to the place where the central palace had been, and there they would see the temple resurrected by my hand. Sorry to say I can't remember doing it (I'm sure it would have been a sight to be seen) but sure enough, there it was, a waterlogged island and algae-covered tower, and that star twinkling away overhead. You can imagine their wonder. Unlikely as it sounds, nobody even tried to oppose him. I suppose as downtrodden as the people were, any sign that the gods had remembered them was seized and run with.

As news travelled, our 'disciples' grew in number. The temple was restored and the marshy island drained. You might wonder how people, poverty stricken down to their muddy bare feet could afford to dedicate their time to such activities, and the answer is that Grandfather loaned them the means to do it. The money (lent at interest, I might add) was traded with the centaurs for food and the labour and materials for building, on the agreement that it would be paid back when the Atlanteans could once again live off the land they tended. Slowly the palace island got bigger and bigger, and more and more people came, and Grandfather lent them more and more money. He never seemed to run out of it.

While everyone toiled away in poverty, Grandfather moved Ka and I into the newly restored palace, where he continued our training. Apart from his relentless approach to our education, we were extremely spoilt, and from an early age instilled with a heady sense of pre-eminence. At twelve, Ka was a master of mathematics, strategy, engineering and combat, and I was accomplished in sorcery, medicine, hunting, and what I would call 'shamanism'. We were both literate, and had been tutored in the humanities, as well as 'politics', but in retrospect I feel that the latter was rather obscured by our over-arching contempt for anyone that wasn't us. Whether this was Grandfather's intention or not, I do not know. It did though prove to be his downfall.

Grandfather was a master astrologer. He knew everything that was going to happen, from what he read in the sky. I have to say that this was knowledge that wasn't passed down to either Ka or I, and I can't remember whether it was because we weren't able to grasp it, or because Grandfather never tried to teach us. Years after his death, people suggested that he had only feigned an ability to read stars as a means of manipulation, a basis for propaganda. But those words were speculation and rumours, and as there were no astronomers so great among Grandfather's contemporaries as to challenge him, we shall never know - just as there is so much else in the world we shall never know.

If I try to remember how I felt then, I can say that I was happy. I lived in opulence, clothed in emerald encrusted silk and presented daily with food of such excellence which was never again matched in my life so far, which I can assure you is saying something. I was praised for my scholastic accomplishments and took great pride in them. Ka was my best (and only) friend and playmate, and our play was never short of diversion. On the other hand, we were competitive. Or perhaps it was just me who was competitive. Ka was very logical, and less hot-headed than me. Perhaps he understood 'the big picture', even if I didn't.

Around this time, I imagine when he'd figured we were ready, Grandfather summoned us into his presence to inform us of our intended roles in government. His early campaign had ensured that nobody doubted that my brother and I were born to rule, but as we were so young, and he was doing such an excellent job of raising us, he was widely accepted as the steward of the palace, and of course head of government. The combined labour force had salvaged much of the ruined land about the palace-temple. Walls had been built. Fields had been tilled. Any inquisitive invasion forces had been swatted away by the hardy centaur army.

He began our meeting with a critique of the progress we were making in our respective training programmes. I remember clearly that I was wearing an archer's arm guard on my left arm, which was made of white suede and had been embroidered with an intricate geometric pattern, and was also sporting a silver hunting knife with a curved blade that tapered into a point, with half of one edge serrated and the handle inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Both items were gifts, each from a different visiting head-of-state, though I don't recall who precisely.

Grandfather told Ka how pleased he was with the ingenious simplified writing and language system he was working on, but he picked me up on what he called my 'weak form with a fighting blade', by which I think he meant swordsmanship. I know I wasn't as keen on 'man-to-man' combat as I was of sniping and trapping, and looking back I'm sure it was a fair criticism. At the time I remember arguing with him how I didn't understand why adhering to rules and etiquette in fighting could yield more success than attacking opportunistically. He told me it showed a lack of self-discipline. Then he told Ka that he was to become Emperor of Atlantis, and me that I would be High Priestess and General of the Army. He obviously anticipated that the news would make us happy. I wasn't.

I wanted to be Emperor. I wanted to be Queen. I'd been told all my life that it was my birth-right. My father was a god. Who on Earth had the authority to deny me that?

I don't remember exactly what happened next, it's rather as if a mist came down and obscured my memory from recording it. But I know what happened because of the evidence of the immediate aftermath. I can see my arms and hands slippery with blood. I can see my arm guard painted dark red. I can see my eye reflected in a red-and-silver mirror, with small bits of flesh caught in the serrated edge. I can see that Grandfather is on the floor, unmoving apart from the blood oozing through his fingers, which are clamped around his neck. I hear nothing, just a roaring like wind in my head.


	2. Chapter 2

In the minutes afterwards, I was caught by a pair of centaurs from the palace who had come running to the sound of Ka's shrieking. I had not moved; it hadn't even occurred to me to run away. I imagine the enormity of my action, or maybe even the realization of it, was still sinking in.

It was the last time I saw Ka in a very long time. I was locked in the palace up under heavy guard for a while, while everyone decided what to do with me. The aggrieved centaurs wanted to execute me, but Ka refused to permit it. There was nothing really stopping them from overruling him, he was just a kid after all, but they maintained Grandfather's cause and paid heed to my brother's plea. They persuaded him instead to have me exiled. I don't doubt that they were just humouring him with this, and that they were convinced that exile would finish me off just as effectively as execution, either by starvation or exposure to the elements.

The reason I think this is that when they dumped me in the desert wilderness, in an arbitrary spot a few weeks' sail from the palace (they were clearly keen to get well shot of me), I was without provision, shelter or weapons. All I had were the clothes I wore, which had not been changed during my imprisonment and journey, were still covered in dry blood, and did not include shoes.

As I stood on the burning beach with my feet in the surf, watching my jailers shrink back into the horizon, I felt a searing cold panic grip my mind. It was the first time I'd felt anything other than bitterness and fury since my impulsive act of violence in the palace. I thought of my brother, and anger pierced through my fear. Why hadn't he done something to protect me? He hadn't even shown his face since I'd been imprisoned. I realized that he must be delighted that the only obstacle between him and absolute power had removed itself.

If I stood perpendicular to the shore facing the sea I could tell from the sun that I was looking west, which suggested that I had been transported east, though this was not a certainty as I'd had no way of monitoring direction during the voyage. I turned around, and ahead of me I could see only a flat haze all the way to the horizon, which was part brown and part blue. To both my left and right in the far distance I made out the impressions of cliffs or mountains, though they could have been clouds. I wandered inland, picking a painful path through dry brush and stones, but it was only early afternoon and the heat soon made me retreat back to the water, as there was no shade in sight. I sat in the shallows and wrapped some of my clothes around my head to keep the sun off, but I got burned nonetheless. I also started to feel hungry, but I had no ideas about what to eat. I started to feel thirsty too, which was even worse.

It got cooler in the evening, but I felt too weak to go exploring. The temperature dropped low and I spend the night curled up and shivering on the beach. It might surprise you that someone who was so physically fit, and had spent her life training how to hunt and fight – in a word, survive – could be so un-proactive when finding herself in my situation. Please consider that, for the first time in my life I was encountering despair. Fear. Pain. Not to mention extreme hunger and thirst. I'd never had to deal with, even contemplate, these emotions before. It crippled me.

I spent three days on that beach. My salvation came, due partly to my deserters misinformed choice of a place to drop me. What they had seen as a featureless plateau turned out to be a pass through the coastal mountains (the ones I'd glimpsed in the distance on my day of arrival, and mistaken for clouds) that separated the land from the sea, and was as such quite frequently made use of by merchants and seafarers. Nevertheless, it was also due in the most part to unbelievable luck that I was found at all.

By the third day, I wasn't doing much to draw attention to myself. I was pretty close to death I think, because I don't remember being found at all (though there's always the possibility that that's my faulty memory at work again). My first awareness of my saviours came when I woke up, and it was dark, but I could hear a lot of new sounds that were not the wind or the water. I lay very still for a while and tried to identify what I could hear. There were voices, but they were indistinct, muffled by a crackling noise, and speaking a language that wasn't mine. After a while I deduced that there were three or four voices, probably men, and that the warmth I felt and the crackling sound were from a fire.

I moved my head experimentally, and my neck hurt. I tried other body parts, and all protested similarly. My skin felt raw, but I knew that I must be generally less ailing as I didn't feel as thirsty as before. I opened my eyes.

I was facing away from the fire, lying on my side, and apparently apart from the other people. Ahead of me was one triangular tent, sidelong, and I could see my shadow cast against it from the fire. To the left and right were more tents like it. I couldn't get much more from this view, and I was remembering my hunger, so I decided to turn over and find out more.

I pushed myself painfully onto one elbow, then tried to tilt my hips without rubbing my flayed back against the ground too much. Someone had wrapped me in a heavy black wool blanket. Then one of the men whose voices I'd heard noticed me moving, and started vocalizing excitedly. Suddenly I was surrounded by figures, and hands reached out to squeeze or support my feeble limbs. Someone pushed a cup of water towards my face, which I swallowed entirely without taking a breath. I said "Do you have food?" but they didn't understand, so I opened my mouth and jabbed inside it with my index finger. A hand pulled away my empty cup, and returned it a few moments later containing some lumps of something, which I did not subject to further inspection before scooping them up into my mouth. I think they were bread and meat, but I couldn't say of what variety. I wasn't in a fussy mood.

They all watched me stuff my face for a bit. All four of them wore black woollen cloaks and wrapped their heads in black cloth, so that only their faces showed. Their skin was darker than mine, they had dark eyes, and they had long thin straight noses. Each of their head-scarves was embellished around the crown with silver-coloured metal pieces, and the shoulders of their cloaks were embroidered heavily with pale thread in a diamond pattern. When I'd finished eating they looked at me expectantly and they spoke to me with a questioning tone, but I didn't understand. One darted his hand out and touched my cheek, which hurt on account of the sunburn, so I exclaimed and slapped his hand away, despite my weak muscles. He looked surprised, and his companions laughed and clapped him on the back.

Eventually they left me alone once they'd given up on engaging me in conversation, and I lay down and fell immediately asleep, feeling considerably better for the food in my stomach. When I woke it was a little after dawn, and the sky was all the colours of fire. I looked around and saw only a flat golden-brown horizon in all directions. Though the sand was cool beneath me the air was noticeably warmer, and the sky was clear. My new companions had already begun to break camp, and I saw for the first time the means by which they were travelling through the desert. I had never seen camels before, and was bemused at their disproportionately long, slender legs with broad feet, and the benign, apathetic expressions on their faces. There were around ten of them, tethered in a group, along with two medium sized yellow-haired dogs who were panting in the rising heat. I did not perceive their humps at first as they were all wearing elaborate cushioned saddles made from wooden frames and woven cloth. I took the elevated height of the saddles to be simply part of their design, and wondered how on earth to mount them.

I was offered a torn handful of bread for breakfast, which was crunchy with sand, but I wolfed it down never the less. I discovered that my blanket was another of the woollen cloaks, and it appeared that this was day wear as well as night wear, as the men still had theirs on. I wrapped my head up again and sat patiently off to the side, waiting for whatever was going to happen next. Some of the camels were loaded with the packed-up camp and sacks and boxes. The remaining four were to have a rider each, and the men decided amongst themselves who I got to share a camel with. The creatures knelt down to be mounted, which answered my earlier question, but even so the saddles were still so high that I had to be lifted on.

We spent the whole day riding across a landscape which barely changed. A container of water was passed up and down the procession, but my companion protested if I took more than a sip at a time. The cloak I was wearing scratched at my punished skin, but exposing it to direct sunlight was worse. The two dogs trotted along in the camels' shadows, and the only times we stopped were so the men could give them a drink, which was infrequently. I spent a while wondering how to explain to them where I wanted to go, but realized quickly that even if I did find my way back to Atlantis, I'd just be driven out again, or worse. I had been exiled by my own brother, my best friend. He'd betrayed me, and supplanted me as Atlantis' heir.

Our troupe stopped to strike camp as the sun dipped close to the horizon, and the sky turned from blue to blood-red. I discovered that the tents were not chiefly for sleeping in, but rather for housing the various sacks and boxes that were being transported, and the men slept around the fire. I did not join them though, and after our evening meal I retired to one tent, feeling an urge to be separate from the strangers.

The next day was more of the same. After two days I had a moment of interest as I saw mountains approach in the distance, but when we reached it it was less than a rock wall, beyond which was more unexciting desert. We travelled for about a week in this fashion, before finally reaching our mysterious destination.

My rescuers were by no means saints. Though they sacrificed a portion of their small provisions to me, they had their fun with me as well, though at least they gave me a few days to fully recover from my diminished condition before doing so. On the third night, I awoke to the realization that I was not alone in my tent. I'd never known a man intimately before, in fact I was young enough not to have spent much time dwelling on the concept. In my culture, as you will later see, sexual relationships between members of the opposite sex are reasonably unusual, except with the explicit intention of reproducing. This man smelled of sweat and wine, his body on mine as hot and heavy, and his beard (for he'd made it an occasion to remove his scarf) scratched my face. As such encounters go, it was not a good first one, though I've heard that for girls it rarely is. I struggled, but even though I was strong he was a fully grown man and overpowered me easily, pinning me down so that he could touch me with his lips. Anywhere he deposited saliva and sweat on my skin it burned, and when he forced himself inside me I felt like I was being ripped in two.

After he was satisfied, he rolled off and tried to lie beside me, but I curled up into an unresponsive ball, and eventually he left the tent, and me with my defiled body and mind. I hid behind some heavy sacks at the back of the tent for the rest of the night, but nobody else came in. The following evening I slept outside, because I didn't believe any man would try anything on me in full view of his peers, but I was wrong. I won't go into details, suffice to say that by the end of our trip I'm sure each of them had had their way with me at least twice.

We finally reached Mari, a trading city on the banks of the Euphrates, though they didn't call it the Euphrates at that time. The city was a mass of small square one story houses made from mud bricks, tightly crowded together without order, old and new alike. In the centre of the city on the west bank was an enormous palace (though nothing to compare with Atlantis' palace temple) the only building not built of mud, and surrounded by a wall the height of a man, just as the one the whole city was enclosed by as well. I walked with the men through the narrow avenues and streets as each one sold or traded his stock, and each transaction was lengthy and subjected to much negotiation. I wondered why they did not disband and continue their business separately, but I realized that there was some dispute over who would get to keep me. Eventually an argument broke out, culminating in one man falling upon another with his knife, and slitting his belly. I stood back in fright, wondering whether I should flee into the crowds, but the other people around did not seem surprised – on the contrary, many laughed, and shortly the aggressor and his victim were carried away.

I was left with the two remaining men, who bickered together until apparently reaching an agreement, whereupon they led me away to another part of town, where I was sold into slavery. Here too, much haggling and arguing took place, and I assume that the men tried to get a better price for me by claiming that I was a virgin, but the slaver was no fool and had me examined, just to add to my humiliation. Finally, money changed hands, which my escorts divided between themselves, and they departed.

In the slave market I found myself among men and women of all ages and complexions and in various states of dress or undress. Each wore a tag around their neck which was a square slip of papyrus imprinted with markings from an alphabet I didn't know, and suspended by string attached to the corners. I quite soon received a tag, and in an act of protest to this degrading treatment I rent it in half before the slaver's eyes. I came to regret my action, as he thrashed me hard with a stick which left bruises and cuts, and stung all the worse for my sunburn, and when I was presented with another tag I accepted it meekly. The slaver was tall and thin and clean shaven. He had a large beak like nose and big ears which stuck out, and his skin was dark tanned and leathery. He was always swathed in white linen which looked very baggy on his beanpole-frame, wore sandals which curled up at the end and gold-coloured rings on his fingers and toes, and he always had his stick in one hand and a pot of beer in the other, whenever his hands weren't otherwise engaged.

Among the slaves I could not find one who could understand me, or whom I could understand. I felt increasingly distressed at the prospect of a future in which I could communicate with nobody.

During the day we sat on straw mats beneath an awning (this slaver had about twenty slaves, though there were many more slaves and slavers at the market). Throughout the day I frequently heard screams, here and there around me, and realized after a while that they were the screams of slaves being branded, and after not too long I witnessed it at first hand. A middle aged woman slave was purchased, and after the money had passed to the slaver he led the woman to a brazier nearby, from which he withdrew a red-hot branding rod and held her down to press it three times against her wrist. I heard the sizzle of seared flesh and the woman's screams clouded my vision with terror. I trembled and wondered if this too was to be my fate. Once again, for those of you who know me now, this cowardice may seem somewhat out of character for someone who didn't think twice about plunging a knife into the neck of a fully grown centaur, but not far beneath my psychopathic exterior I was just a thirteen (or possibly fourteen) year old girl who had been abandoned in a harsh reality where all was upside-down, and everything that was good and familiar in life had turned to ashes.

I will skim over the details of the few days spent in the slave market. We got two meals a day of bread or some kind of grain cooked in animal fat, which was never enough to satisfy, but I can say that it agreed with my palette. At night we were shut in a room with a wooden lock, and it was cold and dark and uncomfortable, and without any designated latrine. Slaves arrived and slaves were bought, and inevitably so was I eventually. Coincidentally, on the day I was bought I had been given that morning an opportunity to clean myself. I and a couple other girls received a big bowl of water, some soap and a comb which we shared between us, and I stripped off naked to scour myself and my clothes of the accumulated filth of my voyage and ordeals in the desert. My hair took a lot of work as it was long and matted and falling out of the intricate braids it had been in when I left Atlantis, but I eventually got the comb through it and let it fall free to dry in the dusty air.

I also discovered at this moment the pendant I was wearing, which I'd forgotten about as it had been hidden in the folds of my clothing. The pendant was a bluish crystal which Grandfather had given each to Ka and me, which he said was cut from the ever-shining star above the palace temple. The crystal pendant was about the length and thickness of my thumb, and refracted spots of coloured light into my hand as I inspected it now in the morning sunlight. I had been wearing it because I had received it from Grandfather only minutes before I'd jumped upon him with my knife.

I took my wet clothes back to where the other slaves were lounging around, wearing only my slave tag, as I'd hidden my pendant inside my clothes in case the slaver got any ideas and tried to take it off me. So I was sitting naked in the dust, waiting for my clothes to dry, when two men wearing colourful clothes approached us, looked around, and then pointed me out to the slaver. I felt my blood run cold and I sat frozen as I watched the three men converse together, often glancing or gesturing at me. Then the slaver pulled me to my feet, and I was subjected to a rigorous inspection by the two colourful men, who poked their fingers just about everywhere, though I tried to twist my way out of the slaver's grasp. Then money exchanged hands, and I found myself being dragged towards the dreaded brazier. I screamed and kicked, but the slaver possessed strength which seemed disproportionate to his skinny physique, and within seconds I experienced the agony of the red hot branding rod on my arm. After that I don't know what happened, I might even have passed out. But what I remember next is passing through the high wooden gates of the Mari palace, escorted by the colourful men, and seeing before me a shining white building with many tall, domed roofs painted in different bright colours.


	3. Chapter 3

The palace at Mari was luxurious and extensive. I believe it possessed more than two hundred and fifty rooms, of which some were used by King Zimrilim and his wives and daughters, some by the servants, and what the others were used for I cannot imagine. The palace was mainly on two floors apart from the number of small towers. I won't say that it compared with the shining majesty of Atlantis' palace-temple, whose architecture is unique and favours elegance in height, such that I've never seen anywhere else in the world in all the time I've lived. However, I can say that the palace at Mari was beautiful and impressive for the simple and primitive culture that it had come from. It was built from brilliant limestone, polished in the interior spaces and in much of the reception rooms engraved on the floors and walls with intricate patterns. Otherwise, the rooms were decorated with brightly coloured murals and gold leaf. By day the palace was cool and shaded, and by night the rooms were warmed by small fireplaces and the smell of camphor or lavender was carried through the windows by the breeze.

The new surroundings were so delightful that upon arrival there, in my delirium I thought that I had been transported back to my home country, and of the first person I saw I demanded that I be brought to my brother. My fantasy was shattered though when we came entered into the servant's quarters, which were a different matter. They were noisy and stifling, and there were a lot of people who all moved about with much urgency. The floors were bare here and dusty. As I was led through the jostling crowds by my smarting arm many people bumped into me, and in one moment I came free from the grasp of the man who led me and managed to slip away from him. I escaped from the hot, gloomy place through a curtained doorway and out into the gardens which surrounded the palace.

The gardens were formed of concentric rings radiating out from the palace made of sand, grass beds and water, the latter two being irrigated by a man-made system fed by the nearby river. There were four rings of each type, making twelve in total, and each ring was about a man's height in its width. Beyond the rings all around were an orchard of fruit trees, and beyond that was the high wall which enclosed the entire palace and gardens. The sun was high in the sky. I looked about but could see nobody, so I took the shortest route possible to the shade and seclusion of the orchard.

I was still naked as I'd been when I'd left the slave market, less than an hour earlier. I remembered the pain of my wrist and gave it a closer look. There were three burns side by side along the back of the wrist of my right hand, which were now three open wounds which were glistening with yellowy pus, and the flesh all around was red and angry looking. It all hurt with a persistent stinging ache which was impossible to forget about, and I couldn't see anything around which might have given me some relief.

I considered my situation. I'd managed to escape, and nobody knew where I was or seemed to be looking for me. On the other hand, where did that leave me? I walked around the inside of the outer wall looking for a gate or a way over, but the wall was built much higher than any of the trees, and the only entrance was two heavy wooden doors which remained locked when not in use, and I didn't much fancy my chances at trying to blag it with the guard. Even if I got out, I realised, what then? I was branded as a slave, a conspicuous foreigner who couldn't speak the language, penniless and clotheless. It was also at that moment that I became aware that I was without my bundle of clothes, and more importantly the pendant inside it. I couldn't remember if I'd even brought it with me from the market, I was in such a frenzy over my burns. I sat down with my back against the wall.

Soon I noticed that I was not entirely alone, and that there was someone else on the other side of the trees. Though I'd become aware of them, they seemed unaware of me. I also noticed that I must have walked past that person while I'd been checking the wall. The person was kneeling in the grass just within the shade of the trees, and was carrying out some kind of activity, and was speaking, though apparently alone. I moved closer, though I did so quietly so as not to give myself away. When I got within hearing distance I realized that it was a woman speaking, and I was astonished to discover that I could understand what she was saying.

It was not my language but it was one that I'd learned, which came from the black lands south of Atlantis, whose inhabitants called Kemet. Now, everybody calls it Egypt. The woman had her back to me as she knelt and spoke. She was slender, with nut-brown skin, and clothed almost transparently in silky white material. She had black hair which was braided finely with a shining blue thread, and the hair fell past her shoulders. I was listening to her speech, part of which was:

_"O Ubasti, exalted Lion-queen, thou art the great cat, with your graceful stealth anticipate the moves of all who perpetrate cruelties and stay their hands against the children of light..."_

I did some reasoning. My future prospects if I remained in the garden were limited. If I turned myself in, I assumed I'd face punishment. If I escaped, I had nowhere to go. So I decided that I'd been presented with an opportunity here, where I might have a chance at explaining myself to someone who could help. So, I stepped out from behind my tree and said:

"Blessed be the day that brings us fortune in our meeting, noble lady of the Black Lands."

The woman jumped, and turned to face me. She was youthful, perhaps twenty-five years of age, and very beautiful. Her eyes were kohl-rimmed, bright and green as the Aegean, and her lips as they formed an 'O' of surprise were full and painted like rose petals. She wore gold bracelets on her arms and ankles, gold necklaces, gold earrings, and there were pieces of gold decorating her dress too. As she turned towards me her jewellery tinkled, and I caught a glimpse of the little glass bottle and some other small shape in her hands, but she sought to conceal these from my eyes.

I was waiting for her to say something to me but she appeared to be rather startled, and continued to look me up and down wordlessly. So I said:

"I am La, Princess of Atlantis and daughter of the Sea-King."

Though I was standing in as regal a stance as I could muster, the woman didn't look as impressed as I'd been hoping for. I'm can imagine that my nudity was rather damaging my case, so I decided to try a new tack.

"I have come to this country to broaden my education of the customs of my neighbours, but I have been treated in a manner which ill befits my birth and dignity. Kindly introduce me to your great Cat-God whom you were addressing before my ungainly interruption, so that I might know her and find favour with her in this place."

The woman went pale, so I assumed she'd finally realized who I was.

"There is no need for you to be afraid," I continued, "for I respect all of noble birth, which by my eye you must most assuredly be."

My flattery of her seemed to bring her around, and she swallowed and then opened her mouth again to speak:

"Your body is foreign yet your tongue is of Kemet. Truly you are a fascinating mongrel."

I could not help reacting to the insult, for I am a hot tempered person and had not yet learned the advantage of being in control of my reactions. I said:

"If I am a dog as you say then I shall crush your god's neck in my jaws, for you are nothing more than the dust between my toes!" and as I said this I pointed at my feet with my branded arm.

"Aha!" she exclaimed in delight, grabbing my arm, "Slave! One of the other hags sent you to spy on me didn't they! Well I won't be swindled so easily."

Then as she still held me by my wrist, she got to her feet and raised her voice in the language that I did not understand. I struggled and kicked at her, but she hissed at me _"If you flee I will tell them to beat you when they find you! They will not believe you if you try to tell them tales of me!"_ so I stopped, even though her grasp was hurting my wrist, because I had already tasted a beating in this city and was not looking to repeat it.

Two men appeared, both in bright coloured clothes and brandishing bronze knives. The woman spoke with them in the language I did not understand. Then she said to me _"Come, now!"_ and pushed me ahead of her towards the palace.

Her name was Amunnefer, and she was one of King Zimrilim's various wives. Moreover, she was his most recent wife, the daughter of a well-to-do priest in Kemet, who had sent her to the Mari palace as part of a gift exchange between heads of state.

King Zimrilim of Mari was very much a man of his god, who was called Marduk, and he was extremely strict about the worship of other gods within his palace. I believe this was because Zimrilim thought Marduk to be intolerant of the worship of other gods than himself, and so in order to find good favour with him the King doled out harsh punishment to anybody who was found to be 'adulterous' to his god. This was no mean feat as many of Zimrilim's wives were foreign, and had brought their own gods with them when they were sent from home, just as with Amunnefer.

She had grown up in the temple of Ubasti, a feline god, in a country where the worship of multiple gods was normal. Her belief and dedication to her cat-god were unwavering (her father was a priest, remember) and now that she had arrived in Mari, she was not prepared to give up her life-long practice.

It transpired that Amunnefer had secured a post for me as her personal hand-servant. As I'm sure you've guessed, this was not an act of favouritism, but because she had been afraid that I would tell other people in the palace that I'd seen her worshipping another god, so she decided to keep me in sight for as long as she wished. Doubtless, she was most relieved when she realized that I could not speak a common language with anyone there but her.

In many ways this was a good turn of events for me. I had found someone who I could converse with, something I had started to seriously think might never come to pass. Without language, I had little hope of convincing anybody who I really was, and thereby (I assumed) being treated in the manner I was accustomed to back home. I had also found myself in a job which was relatively gentle, compared to what I came to witness over the coming weeks, not to mention the ordeals that I had already experienced. But I did not recognise these strokes of luck at the time, and this was due in part to an incident which occurred minutes after my appointment to work for Amunnefer.

From the palace garden, we came inside to Amunnefer's living quarters. Presently, another serf arrived and – as to my joy I realized – he carried my bundle of clothes from the slave market. But before I could relieve him of them, he placed the bundle in Amunnefer's hands, and as he did so out fell my necklace with the crystal pendant. She swiftly recovered it from the floor.

"Those things are mine!" I demanded.

"All that was yours is now mine, slave." She said, turning the pendant over in her hand, and it sparkled as the light caught its facets.

I reacted in anger once more, and I leapt at her to snatch the thing from her hands. But the serf intervened and tore me from her, rebuking me with a blow of his hand to my face, and I fell over, screeching incoherently. I heard Amunnefer say something to the serf, and saw him hand her a switch much like the one that had been used on me in the slave market. She also handed my belongings (save for the crystal) back to the man who left the room with them.

Now alone together, Amunnefer spoke to me thus:

"I see that you do not know your place, and perhaps – as your brand indicates – this is because you have not been a slave for long. But I shall teach you your place with this stick, and where that fails, remember this – I am the King's wife, and if you should disobey me or seek to do me harm, your punishment will be a terrible one. Consider this before you try another time to raise a hand against me."

So began my time as Amunnefer's servant. I wasn't her only servant, as it turned out. I was one of two or three who had different duties of care to her, which ranged from aiding her in her morning toilette, in preparing and conveying her breakfast and other refreshments, accompanying her on whatever task or whim occupied her through the day, and in helping her to prepare for bed. My duty to her started once breakfast was finished, and ended when she joined the King and his wives and daughters for their evening banquet together. But my days began much earlier, and ended much later than these events, as I got up in time to wash, eat and prepare myself for Amunnefer's presence, as well as attending to some of the countless palace chores shared by the many servants. This was a great challenge for me. I had never until that point worked a day in my life. It was not that I was unaccustomed to hard work – much of my training in Atlantis had been vigorous and exhausting. It was not even the necessity to learn so many new tasks which was so wearisome. It was mostly that I had never had to submit to accepting the degrading status of common men, or found myself as worth less than any of them.

I had received simple garments of white linen, which were my duty to keep clean and in good repair, as Amunnefer had disposed of my Atlantean clothes. I spent my nights on a straw mat in the servant's quarters, among other men, women and children, and from my bed I could hear the skitter of mice and the cats which pursued them about the kitchens.

Apart from being at Amunnefer's beck-and-call, I had received another, secret job. I had to accompany her on her forays into the orchard to pay her daily services to her god. My role was lookout. As well as this, Amunnefer gave me the task of keeping the little stone cat and glass bottle of anointing oil which she used for the ceremony on my person, at all times save for when she was using them. This was so that she could never accidentally be caught with them in her possession, and of course she did not neglect to remind me of the punishments that would await me should I lose them, or give away her secret to anybody at the palace.

My crystal necklace had found a place for itself most days as part of Amunnefer's many corporeal decorations. I do not know whether this was because she genuinely found it to be so pleasing to her eyes (it was after all a contrast to the gold adornments which were usually dripping from her limbs), or if she took pleasure in taunting me in this manner. Either way, her theft of my only remaining possession from Atlantis enflamed me with rage, and during my days at the Mari palace I spent my time forming ideas for how I might reclaim it from her.

It was through this pondering that I decided that the first step was to learn the native language, which I have since learned is called Amorite. This way, I at least had a chance of convincing another person of my true identity, or perhaps at least of blackmailing Amunnefer into returning the crystal to me.

The way I did this was in bribing my fellow slaves to give me snatches of their time, between chores or at the end of the day, to teach me the rudiments of the Amorite language. Having nothing else to give them, I paid for my lessons with portions of my meals. We slaves were not starved at the Mari palace, but neither were our servings generous, and for the period of my lessons I came to be pretty skinny. The lessons themselves were slow and difficult, especially since there was no common tongue between student and teacher from which to define the words and structures being taught. It was trial and error, but slowly I gained ground. After some weeks I could find a path through simple, broken sentences to express more sophisticated things, and so my vocabulary grew.

At the same time, I tried to build up my case against Amunnefer. Despite her threats at the start of my tenure, I found her to be calm and not too quick in her temper, nor too eager to turn the switch on me, and as I was generally obedient to her orders (having decided that to be otherwise was foolish if I wanted to succeed in my undertaking) my time in her presence passed with little to remark upon.

This does not mean that I felt any less contempt for her, not was my resolve weakened in the task of regaining my crystal, and as my grasp of the Amorite language grew so did my excitement at the thought of how much I was going to enjoy the look on Amunnefer's face when she realized that I had defeated her.

So it was that one afternoon, when Amunnefer had just completed her secret daily devotions to her beloved god, I spoke to her thus:

"Fairest of royal wives; I beg you forgive my impertinence, it is but childish curiosity – but what is this thing which you beg for every day? What is it that you are so certain only your Ubasti can provide? She must be exceptionally powerful, if it is not even within the might of the King's god to help you."

Amunnefer gave me a long look. I do not know whether she was suspicious of my questioning or not, but she answered me thus:

"I ask her to bless me with the privilege of providing the King with his first son."

"Ah, what a noble ambition." I said. "You must truly love your husband to yearn to make him so happy."

"You have a child's naivety." She replied. "The king is desperate for a son but none of his wives have yet been able to grant him that wish. If I can give him a son, I will have greater privilege and influence within the palace. When my son grows up he will become King, and I will be the most powerful woman within his kingdom."

"But I thought the King has already a great many daughters. Does he not love them?" I asked her, and my words were sharpened with anger as her statement had recalled my own anguish at having been cast aside from the throne of Atlantis, in favour of my brother.

"Your question is clearly that of a foreigner." Amunnefer observed. "It is common knowledge that the King's god has told him that if he remains without a son, Mari will fall and his precious dynasty will be extinguished. _I_ intend to be the one to deliver him from what he fears most. And – who knows – maybe one day he will recognise the superior generosity and blessedness of Ubasti, and cast out his greedy Marduk who is cruel and without pity."

Perhaps she was suspicious after all, because a couple of days later she confronted me in her sleeping chamber when I arrived there to commence my duties.

"I knew your tongue was not to be trusted." Said Amunnefer darkly.

I feigned ignorance, though of course I knew exactly what this meant. I could feel my blood pumping in my ears and my mind raced to think of how I might salvage my already fragile plan.

"Fairest of Royal Wives…I do not know –"

"You know that I am no simpleton, slave. You have been learning the language of the people of Mari, and I can only imagine that your purpose in this is to speak against me to the King. If so, you must yourself be simple."

"If I am to spend the rest of my life here, then why should I not wish to be able to speak with the people I'll be spending it with? I cannot understand any orders save those you give me, and this causes for me many problems."

"Perhaps." Said she. "But I can trust you now even less than I could before. I can no longer afford to let you leave my presence. You will assume the duties usually paid to me by three slaves, and you shall do these alone. You will remain here even at night."

She tapped her foot on the floor, clearly agitated. I had said nothing further, and was astounded that I had not yet felt the sting of the switch on my back or face. Apparently reading my mind, Amunnefer sniffed and said:

"Do not be fooled into thinking that I am showing you mercy out of some kind of fondness. At my word you would be executed without any need for proof of reason. I only keep you because your duties to me grant me much ease in my own duty to blessed Ubasti. Furthermore, the only reason that I have not beaten you yet is because the King visited my chamber last night, and I hope that I may be carrying his son, so for now I am avoiding any unnecessary exertion and stress. But do not see this as an opportunity for dissention, for my son's welfare is of a higher importance to me than the convenience afforded to me by your presence, so if you become difficult it shall be the end of you."

The new arrangement brought many odd things to come to pass. One was that I now took all my meals with Amunnefer, including the nightly banquet held by the King for his wives and daughters. Here I first got to see King Zimrilim up close.

He was not at all like the image I had built up of him in my mind, from hearing about his God and the cruel practices by which the King served him. Zimrilim was enormously jovial, as well as being enormous himself. He was tall and almost round, and had thick curly hair on his head and a curly beard shot with silver, which he wore in a delicate silver net (I could not say if this was for hygiene while eating or otherwise, as I didn't see what he wore while not dining), and he bestowed his wide and expressive grin munificently upon all around him. He wore, like most people in Mari, white or brightly coloured linen, though his was intricately embroidered with all manner of patterns and jewels. He always appeared to be having an exceedingly good time, and usually had at least one of his younger daughters sitting in his large lap, and it was plain that he loved each of them very much.

I also now slept in Amunnefer's chambers, which was an improvement on the crowded kitchens (though no more comfortable).

But the strangest thing that happened, happened on the first night of my new duties, after Amunnefer and I returned from evening dinner.

I helped her prepare for bed for the first time, a duty which I'd never witnessed before. Amunnefer always wore so much jewellery, which was laboriously detached and unfastened from her limbs and clothes. Four hand maidens brought pitchers of water which they decanted into a short metal bath. Then they left, and I turned to look at Amunnefer who was at her dressing table, admiring herself in a polished copper mirror. And then she raised up her hands to her head, and lifted off her wig.

I was surprised because I didn't realize that the wig was not her own hair, intricately and uniformly braided with those blue metallic threads. Her real hair was a mantle of deep brown curl-lets. She unfastened the front of her dress and shrugged it off onto the floor. She was left wearing only my crystal pendant. Then she ran her fingers through her hair, releasing the short, loose dark curls, lustrous in the sunset. Her skin glowed in the blood-red light from the window. I realized that I was captivated by the sight of her there, with her back to me; I noticed the smooth, slenderness of her arms and the definition of her spine, the subtle impression of her ribs through her skin and the indent of her seated buttocks.

She turned on her chair and stood up, facing me now, and the sun backlit her hair so that it became a fiery halo. I had a strange, swooping sensation in my stomach, like when you fall down from a height and your insides don't quite keep up with the rest of you.

She came towards me, and I was so entranced that I forgot what I was doing there. She stepped into the water, so the surface broke and sparkling light reflected on her legs, inside her thighs. She sat down. Then she looked at me. Our eyes met.

"Why aren't you doing your job?" She snapped. I surfaced from my trance.

I picked up a small metal pitcher and dipped it into the water, then poured the contents over Amunnefer's shoulders. Another, over her hair. She closed her eyes and tilted back her head. I used a white linen cloth infused with soap to cleanse her skin. I felt an urge to touch her, it was as if her body were a magnet, but I felt sure if I did her skin would burn me like the branding iron.

When she'd finished, and had retired to her bed, I went to mine with my head spinning, and the smell of her scented oils clung to my senses.

And that was how I discovered my desire for women.

But now I didn't know how to behave in her presence. I still wanted my necklace very much, but another need was growing within me as I started to look on Amunnefer with new eyes. In idle moments I found my gaze coming to rest upon her mesmeric features, her breasts, her thighs, the nape of her neck, and anywhere that her soft, nut-brown skin was uncovered.

I resisted my duties less – rather, I began to take pleasure in them, for I found that the closer I was physically to her, the more my body seemed to tingle with a new, exquisite sensation, accompanied by an exciting swooping in my stomach whenever my skin came into contact with hers. I started to orchestrate more and more of these occurrences, to the point where I wonder if she became suspicious. Certainly Amunnefer's manner towards me changed. She became more docile, far more even-tempered, and her tone with me lost its forbidding edge.

Is it strange that even at my tender age I experienced such a sudden and intense thrust of sexual obsession, entirely without prior warning or example? I don't know. I can't place my behaviour on any scale because I have no contemporaries or peers against whom I could make comparison. Everyone has to start somewhere I suppose.

I had realized the obvious truth, that there were a great many vexing barriers barring me from what I wanted (like so many things in my life at the time). For one thing, I saw that making amorous advances on the King's wife was likely to be met with an unfriendly response from others, particularly the King himself. I also took it from the hetero-normative polygamous surroundings I found around me that same-sex unions were unusual, perhaps unheard of in this small corner of the world. I noticed this after a wise-crack I made with one of my fellow house-servants, about what the King's wives might get up to between each other when he wasn't giving them _his_ attentions, but my fellow had no idea what I was angling at.

The most upsetting dilemma to me though was the realization that my feelings were unlikely to be reciprocated by Amunnefer. I know it sounds arrogant but this took me some time to realize, truly, that an impecunious slave child had little to offer an Egyptian princess.

Because I could not express my feelings to her directly, I projected them onto certain objects – her belongings, her clothes, and - most of all - the little stone cat she had charged me with hiding from the rest of the household. I used to swaddle the thing in the linen of my clothes, and washed it and anointed it daily with the oils I used for myself. I even slept with it in my hands, keeping it close to my chest, and fantasized to myself that it was a gift Amunnefer had given to me as a token of her deep affection, for me and me alone.

But before long, a calamity struck the comfortable routine I had become accustomed to. Amunnefer was not pregnant, a fact which made itself abundantly clear one night all over her linen bed sheets.

For the next few days, as menstruating women were in the King's religion seen as unclean, Amunnefer was separated from the rest of the household, and sent to reside in the palace annex in isolation. Her food was prepared and brought to her by a specially designated chef, so that there was no risk of her contaminating anybody else through me. I missed her while she was gone.

Amunnefer returned ten days later, having undergone a process of ritual cleansing. The first time I entered her chambers and found her reclining on a daybed by the window, I admit that the greeting that sought to escape my lips would have been edged with warmth and fondness. But Amunnefer was, I realized, weeping. I crossed the distance of the room to her, treading softly.

I stood beside her. She was sitting upright, facing the window and with her back to me. She was wearing the simplest of her garments, and no jewels besides my own. Her thick, dark hair appeared burnished in the evening light, and her eyelashes glinted with droplets of tears. Her beauty was divine perfection, no lustrous stones or ornamental garb could improve upon it. In fact, I contemplated; they were merely a shroud, a distraction.

"Fairest of Royal Wives."

She didn't look at me. I took the small stone cat out of my robes. It was wrapped in linen, and glistened with oil. I held it out to her.

Amunnefer took it, and rubbed her thumb gently over the material. She coughed.

"It is not my place to say, but do not blame yourself for what happened. You can try again, and eventually you will get what you want." I blathered.

"Another of the King's wives is now with child. He is blissful; he says he is sure that this will be his first son."

"Oh. I-"

"I will be like any other of his wives, just a slave, for the rest of my life._ Why have you forsaken me in this hateful land!?_"

This last she addressed to the stone cat, and impassioned cast it away from her. It skittered across the stone window ledge and bounced off the far wall.

"I am alone." She murmured. "I am…I have been abandoned."

She wept again, her face in her hands. I wanted to tell her that it didn't matter, that they were all insignificant as beetles in the desert. That she was not alone…

I reached out my hand and gently brushed the nape of her neck with my fingertips. She did not flinch, but I did – both from the surprise at the boldness of my limbs, and at the exquisite luxury of her skin. I never knew that the sense of touch could yield such pleasure.

I laid my palm on her shoulder, and stroked her skin with my thumb. Perhaps it soothed her, because she became more calm and still. I wondered what further indulgences I could steal. I was sure that at any moment she would whirl round and slap me for so flamboyantly overstepping the line, but I couldn't stop myself. I moved closer to her so that I could stroke symmetrical patterns across her shoulders with my fingertips. I was sure that she must hear the accelerated thudding of my pulse, and the involuntary heaviness of my breathing. I imagine my mind must have been pretty misty, as if I had been thinking at all I'm sure I would have lost my nerve. My mouth was dry and I was terrified, but there was a warm, pleasurable ache mounting between my legs, which was fed by the sensation of Amunnefer's sublime contours, and I could not help but give in to it.

Amunnefer was breathing slowly, and she was very quiet. Was she waiting for something? I realized that I was dancing on the knife edge of the question of my intentions. I could stop now, and try to explain my behaviour away, or I could make my desires apparent right there. I swallowed hard.

From where my fingers had been, gently caressing the soft skin below Amunnefer's earlobes, I stroked them down her neck, over her shoulder blades, and slipped my hands in through the back of her dress and around her body. There I wavered for a moment, feeling her hair stand on end at my touch. Then I gently swept my hands up across her stomach, until my knuckles brushed the underneath of her breasts. I felt my private parts flood with a sudden presumptuous wetness, and I gasped. So did Amunnefer.

Deciding that there was no point in holding back now, I leant forward and softly kissed Amunnefer's neck, just below her ear. The smell of her skin up close was…intoxicating. Not the oils or perfumes she wore, but the unplaceable aroma of her and her alone. I pressed myself against her, and at the same time brushed my hands over the soft heaviness of her breasts, and allowing her hardened nipples to slip between my fingers.

Amunnefer sighed and shifted, and when I opened my eyes she was looking _right into my face._

She didn't say anything. She just looked at me, and her expression betrayed no clue as to her state of mind. We were so close together, and I could hear her quietly breathing in and out. I wanted so much to kiss her. Her eyes flicked down to my mouth. My gaze too was drawn to her lips, which were slightly apart as if in anticipation…

I leaned forward and kissed Amunnefer. It was as if I had been in great need of water and now was able to drink, except unlike water her lips did not quench my thirst, but rather enflamed it. My kisses became more fervent as I gave in to the force that was driving me.

Amunnefer accepted my advance, and as I kissed her she became more responsive. When I gently bit her lower lip, which was soft and warm, she gave even an appreciative moan. I let my hands wonder, first stroking her neck and collar bones, then sliding down to her breasts, her stomach, and around to the cleft of her buttocks. Her fingers moved as well, down the side of my body to the hem of my shift, pushing it up deftly and over my head, leaving me naked from the waist up. She did not explore me with her fingers but she pulled me close so that I was pressed against her, kneeling on the edge of the daybed. I had a sudden urge to feel more of her skin against my own, so I reached around her and unfastened the back of her dress, which fell away to reveal her body, fully naked, beneath. I leaned forward, pushing Amunnefer down onto the daybed. She could easily have resisted, she was bigger than me, but she complied with my gentle force and allowed me wriggle out of my slacks and crawl naked on top of her. We kissed still, and I laced my fingers through hers and held her arms down.

I was lying with my legs astride one of Amunnefer's thighs, and I could feel the small, tight curls of her pubic hair scratching my hip. My body was shorter than hers, so I had to lay further forwards to be able to reach her lips, but our bellies were pressed together. I lifted my upper torso so that her nipples would rub against my chest.

I could feel my own wetness on Amunnefer's thigh, and I wanted to know if she was the same. I let go of her left hand and stroked my fingers downwards to the cleft between her legs. I slid my middle finger between her labia, feeling softness, heat, and then…I gasped, as my finger slipped into her wetness, and I realized that Amunnefer was granting me access to her most sacred area, a part of her which presumably only the King had otherwise entered. I felt a surge of triumph which further enflamed my desire, and I massaged Amunnefer's most sensitive parts softly, exploratively, while she moaned through my kisses. I slid my wetted fingertip up over her clitoris, and Amunnefer said 'AH!', and opened her eyes wide. I smiled, and continued to touch her the way I had enjoyed touching myself while thinking about her, during those last weeks.

I hope I can leave what remains to your imagination…

After that pleasurable interlude, Amunnefer invited me to join her in her bed every evening, where we would amuse ourselves and then sleep with our limbs entwined about our naked bodies.

From then, she treated me very differently. I was still her slave, and my days were no different than before, but by night I shared Amunnefer's bed as her lover. We were not disturbed – the King was apparently devoted to that wife of his who was pregnant, or he was otherwise distracted at nights, while I lay with his Beauty of Kemet, and worshipped her.

I won't pretend to believe that our feelings were reciprocal. I was in love with Amunnefer, but she, though her feelings towards me may have changed a lot, was not by any margin _in love_.

One night, as I lay in post-coital serenity with Amunnefer's arm around me, she turned her head and I felt her looking at me. Her green eyes glinted in the glow of the crystal she wore.

"What do you call yourself?" She asked. I was surprised.

"La." I told her.

"_La_?"

I looked at her steadily by way of a reply. Why should she doubt my answer?

"How is it that you speak with the tongue of my land, La?"

"It is one of the languages I learned as part of my political education."

She raised her eyebrows, but it was from surprise rather than incredulity.

"And, in which other matters were you educated?"

I told her of all the things I had studied, and she was clearly surprised. She asked me where I was from, and I told her about Atlantis, but she did not seem to know it. Then she asked me why I left there, and I didn't know what to say.

As it clearly pleased her to hear them, I told her stories of my childhood, my education, my environment, but the more she drank in the more I felt drained, and when I tried to speak of my brother…I couldn't. Moisture left my throat and I felt it burning in my eyes instead…_betrayed. Abandoned. Exiled._

"_I was going to be Queen. I was born to be queen."_

She watched me, intently. Perhaps she thought me mad.

"Tell me again, where is your home?"

"It is west of this land, north of yours, and south of the Hittite country across the sea." I said.

She paused.

"La, are you talking about the story of the sunken city?" She asked me. Now she was looking amused.

"What story?"

"The old land, swallowed by the sea a hundred lifetimes ago. Are you talking about the city in the mythical flood?"

"It wasn't a hundred lifetimes ago; it was much more recent than that." I said, defensively. Amunnefer threw back her head in mirth, her laughter ringing out pure as a bell. I was affronted. When she saw my face, she laughed even more, and pulled me roughly into her arms.

"My little doll, don't be angry!" She giggled. "Too much time in this palace has overfed your imagination. What beautiful stories though! You shall be _my_ very own princess. My little wife."

And because I loved her, and with our bodies pressed together, I could not be angry any more.

In the morning, while Amunnefer's myriad of hand maids dressed her and painted her face, she took the brush for lining her eyes, and my branded wrist in the other, and she painted upon my scar two characters - each a simple glyph - a lion, and below, a bird of prey.

"_La._" She said. She inspected her work, tracing her thumb in a circle around the lion. She looked into my eyes, and smiled. "Ubasti's manifestation on Earth. And here," she touched the raptor, "is Horus, God of the King. La may be of royal birth, but her name is from Heaven."

Then she laughed, like she had the night before – sincerely, uproariously - but not unkindly. Beautifully. I wasn't sure if she was teasing me or not. But I liked the pictures she had painted me with.

Oh Amunnefer, Amunnefer. The passage of time has done something to dull the edge of the sorrow which your death brought me, but you, my first love, I can never wholly lay to rest. Perhaps it was your teasing, your chiding insinuation of my divinity, that tempted fate to turn on you as it did, and in doing so forever lodging the seed of guilt in my heart. Did you deserve to die as you did? I carry the pain of it still in my heart, my love. I'm sorry.

The serenity of my new life was thrown into disarray the following evening. At dinner, I noticed a strange, tense atmosphere – a result of the atypically subdued nature of the King, and the noticeable absence of his pregnant wife, who usually sat beside him. Afterward, Amunnefer left me in her chambers to investigate the root of the matter. She returned quickly, triumph upon her usually aloof features.

"She has miscarried!" She said, with apparent delight in her tone. I didn't say anything. I had no care either way for the unhappy woman and her misfortune, and the news evidently brought Amunnefer much joy, but she was unlike herself as she strode about the room, it made me restless.

"Ubasti may grant me another chance." Said she, and she came to me, and reached into my clothes, for she knew where within I kept her little stone idol. She took it in both her hands, and with much reverence pressed it to her lips, and her forehead, forming fast and silent words of prayer. I wanted to distract her, snap her out of it. This was the time of the evening where I had Amunnefer to myself, and I wanted to undress her and pull her into bed with me.

I slipped my hands around her waist, leaning in to kiss her neck, while she continued to murmur with closed eyes to the stone cat. But I knew where I could touch her, when I meant to cause the most delight. I pressed the tip of my tongue into the crook of her neck, and felt her shudder slightly. I traced the back of my fingers across the lower part of her belly, and she shivered, her skin turning to goose bumps. I bit down gently on her ear lobe, and sucked it, and I felt her abandon her self-control, crumpling into my arms, with a moan. I heard the forgotten stone cat fall to the floor, as I pulled Amunnefer on top of my body, intoxicated with the sensation of her writhing form held between my thighs.

But our recreation was, for the first time, cut short. As Amunnefer and I wrestled loose-robed together upon the bed, the enormous shadow of King Zimrilim emerged into the dusk-lit chamber. We did not notice him immediately, so preoccupied were we that not even his heavy breaths alerted us to his presence, but finally he spoke.

"_What is this?_" he boomed, or something to that effect, causing Amunnefer to spring to her feet, and I to my knees. Zimrilim advanced towards us, covering the distance in a few heavy steps, and then when he was within a pace of us he halted. In the dark, and in this setting he was not recognizable from the ebullient, laughing man at dinner I knew him as. Here, I could see the saliva on his lips, hear his heavy, animal breaths, and I could see the lust in his eyes. I noticed as well a short knife tucked into his sash, as always was through the day. I was frozen, as apparently was Amunnefer. Then she recovered herself, hastening to her knees with bowed head before her king and husband. I did not move, and Zimrilim turned his attentions on me.

"_Have I come upon you fighting with the slave?_" Asked he, turning his face to Amunnefer.

"_My slave was…diverting me with a game, my King._" She told him. I still can't be sure if this was meant as a deception, or if she merely did not have the means to describe what we had been doing together. The King's lips parted in a smile, revealing those gold teeth, which now glinted menacingly as fangs.

"_Then allow me to observe your game, that it might divert me also._" He growled, and before my eyes he loosed himself almost entirely from his robes, which fell to the floor. The clatter of the knife on the stone seemed to spur Amunnefer into action, and she turned to me and took me by the arms, pressing herself close to me. She kissed me, but I could feel that her movements were not truthful. She was tense, she was exaggerating, it was a performance.

I did not want to be in the power of a man once more, as in the desert, and I wondered what was going to happen next. As Amunnefer's weight pushed me down beneath her onto the sheets, I saw beyond her that King Zimrilim had moved onto the bed, and was releasing himself from the rest of his fetters. As Amunnefer rubbed herself in a pantomime of copulation between my legs, Zimrilim came forward on all fours, and mounted her. I felt her body tense and her sharp intake of breath as he came into her from behind, and heard his grunt of pleasure, disgusting to my ears. He moved in and out, quickly finding his pace, and Amunnefer too grunted and moaned in time to his rhythm, but they were not the noises of pleasure that I knew from her. I was repulsed. I felt a hot red cloud form within my head, and before my eyes, and a roaring in my ears began to muffle the animalistic sounds they made. When one of Zimrilim's enormous hands reached around Amunnefer's body, and its hungry, sweaty grasp fell upon my chest, I screamed and clawed it away, but at that moment Zimrilim rolled sideways pulling Amunnefer with him, and off me, so that I was free.

In one moment I sprang from the bed, and finding the King's knife amongst his robes on the floor, I took it, leapt bodily through the air with another scream and plunged it into his fleshy neck. He made a gargling sound, as blood spurted through my fingers. His body contorted, one fee arm scrabbling at the wound. I'm sure he did not even comprehend my presence.

Amunnefer, who had had her back to the King and to me, turned to see what was happening, and then upon seeing the blood she shrieked and rolled off the bed to onto the floor. I pulled the blade from the neck of the gigantic man, and plunged it this time into his chest. I withdrew it, and stabbed again, and again, to stomach, chest and side, and each blow gave me great pleasure. When my blows finally subsided, it was long after the body of the King had ceased to writhe, and lay still, running with blood.

I crouched over him, breathing heavily through my mouth, glaring with triumph into his frozen, surprised face, which a few moments before I had watched contort in pleasure as he fucked my woman. He had carried a weapon with him even within his own palace, but I had posed him so little threat that he had abandoned his constant guard before me, and then I had ruled him. Yes O King, well may you look surprised, for you could never have conceived that a little slave girl could defy your will and take the last breath from your throat, laughing, and exalting in the satisfaction of it. You O King did not know of La, who delivers death with deftness and with terror, as the lion and the falcon do, and sorely did you regret it.

I could taste salty blood in my mouth, and felt it itch as it dribbled down my skin, as sweat does. I knelt quite still, as the hot mist was clearing from my brain, and the roaring in my ears was whispering away. Then Amunnefer stood up from the floor, and I remembered that she was there. I looked at her. She too was covered with blood, and her eyes were wide, her mouth agape. She was staring at me. She was terrified.

"Amunnefer…" I said, softly. She was taking slow, backwards steps.

"_The King…!_" She exclaimed quietly. "_The King…!_"

"I have conquered the King. This will be my household now. Be my wife, Amunnefer, and I will give you all that he gave you, and all that you desire!" I still held the bloody knife in one hand, and with the other, I reached out to her. Amunnefer still stared at me, without comprehension.

But at that moment there were screams from without the palace walls, and the roar of men's voices. I turned from the bed and ran out to the balcony, from where I beheld a confusing and violent sight. Soldiers on horseback were storming the palace, having managed to enter the great wooden gates of the surrounding wall. How they could have done it by force I had no idea, and now I saw that they cut down all that they met, men and women, setting fire to anything that would burn. I turned back into the room to ask Amunnefer what she made of it, but I found the room empty, save for the King's corpse, naked and gruesome among the bloody bed sheets.

I wondered if I might escape in the confusion. I wondered, too, if I would be able to find Amunnefer, and persuade her to go with me. Refastening my clothes, I quit Amunnefer's chambers. I took the knife, and for a reason I don't recall I picked up Amunnefer's stone cat and tucked it into my garments too. Perhaps it was just habit. The interior of the palace was full of running people. I thought: they're probably looking for the King.

The soldiers had got into the palace now, and their aim seemed to be purely on destruction. They upended furniture and smashed what would smash, and struck down anybody they could reach. I even saw one of Zimrilim's daughters, a girl younger than me, struck down with a blow from the hilt of a sword. I myself managed to slip through untouched.

Outside, I made a dash for the gates. But as I neared them, someone stepped into my path, and I saw that it was Amunnefer.

I gave a low cry of relief and joy, and tried to embrace her, but she sprang back, eyes wide. She thrust something towards me, which I caught instinctively in two hands. It was my crystal necklace. Looking up in search of an explanation, I saw her pointing at me, and she said,

"The curse of the King's God has come to pass. It has smote him, and now will smite us all. I have returned your property, La, in the hope that it will appease the curse, for you must be its messenger."

"Amunnefer!"

"Please forgive me my insolence. Forgive me for turning away from the King's God."

"Amunnefer, you are my beloved, please flee with me – now!" I lunged at her, meaning to take her hand, but she screamed and scurried backward, and beyond her I saw a soldier on horseback bearing down on her, spear raised in hand.

I leapt at her once more, this time to push her from harm's way, but she evaded me, rising to her feet just as the horseman closed the distance between them. I saw him bring down the butt of his spear on Amunnefer's head, knocking her back to the ground, whereupon the spear pierced her skull, bursting it open, and dashing her brains across the stone.

A scream of grief immediately took over me, as I saw my beloved smote upon the ground, and I fell to my hands and knees, as the agony ran through me like a blade. As I knelt there grieving, all thoughts of flight forgotten, the soldier rounded on his horse and rose up behind me, whereupon he ran me clean through with his spear, which entered just below my left shoulder, and exited through my right side above the hip. Then with a sharp tug the shaft was withdrawn, leaving me to fall down still in the dust.


	4. Chapter 4

I was lying face down in the sand when I awoke, my fist bunched up uncomfortably beneath my chest, and the dryness of the desert upon my lips and mouth. Around me was the cool purple-blueness of pre-dawn light, and a soft calm which seemed very much misplaced. I gradually came to realize that I was not emerging from a dream, but rather emerging into what I thought had been my dream. There was no snap of realization, where the weirdness of the scenario suddenly left no doubt as to its artificial nature. At that point the brain abandons the charade and lets the sleeper see that they are, after all, in the very place they had fallen asleep the previous night. Instead of this sensible continuity, I puzzled as I tried to fit together my most recent memories with my present state. Where _had_ I fallen asleep?

My bleary eyes finally focused on what was in front of them, confusingly shifted by a quarter-turn. I could see the Mari palace gates, something I had not seen from this side since the day I had first entered them. Men were picking over debris strewn about the ground. Their spears and armour clearly marked them out as soldiers. A scent of wood-smoke pervaded the air.

My shoulder ached and I instinctively turned my body so that I could push my face up from the ground. On the other side of me, my sight came to rest on the ashen countenance of Amunnefer. She was obviously dead - apart from the dull, set look in her dry eyes, the top of her skull was smashed open like a clay pot, with dark blood and pale brains spilled out onto the ground. I vomited from grief and the shock of the sudden memory of what had happened. I remembered the soldier on horseback, and the spear. I remembered running through the palace trying to escape, because of the sudden inexplicable uproar. I remembered...the King...and the knife. I looked down at my body. My clothes were thick with dry and partly-congealed blood.

I felt the ache in my shoulder again and I reached up to rub it, involuntary sobs escaping my parched throat as I looked down at the woman I had loved so intensely. Then I remembered the spear, and the trauma and pain of how it had ripped through my body, and left me gutted on the ground.

But there was no mark there, nor on my side where the point had exited before being ripped out again. It didn't make sense. Had my memory of my death simply been a delusion? Perhaps the grief of witnessing Amunnefer's murder had driven me temporarily mad.

I remembered plunging the little knife into the King's throat. The blood had spurted forward all over Amunnefer. But it had covered me too as I had repeatedly stabbed him. I reasoned that the blood that covered me was probably his.

I crawled forwards to reach out and touch Amunnefer, and as I did so something small and hard fell from my closed fist. My crystal necklace. Then I recalled Amunnefer throwing it at my feet, and the look of fear in her face when she stared at me. It was horrifying. Grief flowed over me then in a sickening wave and I crumpled forwards onto her body. My behaviour must have drawn the attention of a soldier, as I felt hard, grasping fingers gripping my shoulder and pulling me back. I screamed and tried to fight my way back to Amunnefer's corpse, but I was dragged away to the palace wall and dumped there with a collection of womenfolk - most crying or cowering in little shivering groups, and all recognisable to me as members of the King's immediate family.

I put my crystal on underneath my clothes, determined for it not to be found by the pillaging soldiers. Many of them were engaged in carrying out spoils and treasure from inside the palace. Then two soldiers approached me and without speaking began to grasp at my arms and legs and peer inside my clothing. Their probing fingers led me to assume that they were trying to rape me and I fought back uselessly, but they took no notice and then, to my surprise let me go without harm. They didn't even take my necklace.

Their rummaging had also dislodged the small stone cat idol, which I remembered snatching from the floor of Amunnefer's bed chambers. My duty to keep it safe and hidden had been so well drummed into me that I'd picked it up without a second thought. Now, the King was dead, and so was Amunnefer, so there was nobody left to care about the little statue. I pressed it to my lips as my nose and eyes stung causing hot tears flow forth until I tasted their wet saltiness on my cracked lips.

Then my attention was caught as I realised that I understood the muttered exchange which was taking place between two soldiers who were passing not far from where I sat.

"..._wasn't part of our orders_."

"_Someone made a mistake, now nobody's talking. We'll all be for it, probably_."

"_He said he found him like that. But the boss won't be satisfied with that, ..._"

The language wasn't Amorite, nor Kemet, nor Atlantean. Then I realised that it was one of the languages I'd learned back at home, but I'd never heard it spoken as a native tongue. It was the language of Babylon. They were Babylonian soldiers.

I tried to recall my lessons in which the world had been mapped out on paper, and I had learned the locations of all the major states, both historical and contemporary. Babylon was far to the East. But, so now was I. All I could remember at that moment about Babylon was the story of the tower to heaven and the confusion of languages. Even at that time, as I toiled in my language studies I had imagined how convenient it would be if all nations shared a tongue. But I knew the story to be an apocryphal one.

Then the meaning implicit in the soldiers' exchange sank in. I guessed that the subject of their muttering was most likely the dead Mari king. It sounded as if he being dead had not come as welcome news.

As I squatted with my back against the limestone wall, I watched as the Babylonian soldiers carried out many things from inside the palace – painted pottery, finely embroidered carpets and tapestries, gold-leafed statues inlaid with shell and lapis-lazuli, furniture and even clothes and linen – all of which they set about in the courtyard like bizarre garden ornaments. Soon though they began piling up like a mountain, as Zimrilim's palace had a great many rooms, and all had been extravagantly furnished.

Presently, a stretcher was carried out. From the evident effort asserted by the four soldiers who bore it, and by the bulky shape of the cargo it carried, I judged that it was probably the body of the King, veiled though it was by a woollen blanket. The women near to me must have guessed the same, as they began wailing and sobbing afresh at the sight of it, and covering their daughters' faces with their hand and clothes.

Dawn was by now breaking and the rim of the sun's disc peeked over the walls and threw its warm, orange glow across the garden through the yawning gates. Across the busy courtyard I saw that the palace slaves and servants were gathered in a large group. They too were cowering and covering their faces with their hands, and the soldiers were striking them with the butts of their spears to keep them subdued. Then I remembered that I too was a slave, and wondered why I had been left with the King's family.

And then I realised what the soldiers were looking for when they had man-handled me. I pushed up my torn and bloody sleeve to uncover the shiny scar on my arm which the branding knife had left.

It was gone.

I had little time to marvel at this fact, for at that very moment my fellow captives and I were herded from the courtyard and out into streets of Mari. They were strangely calm, and I saw no people save for a few scared faces peeking from behind doors and shuttered windows. I recognised the buildings and streets of the market place as we were herded through the town, but it was without any of the bustle and colour I remembered. Even at this early hour the market was usually coming to life, but today almost all of the shops and stalls were shuttered up. Only a few, whose proprietors were bold enough to invite trade with the soldiers, had opened for business.

Beyond the walls of the city we came to its river port at the edge of the Euphrates, and I saw that this was how the soldiers had travelled to us – for many stoutly built boats with rows of oars and short masts with large white sails lay one against the other tied up by the jetties. Many of the women had started glancing at me and whispering to each other, and shooting me wrathful looks. I did not puzzle at this, for I knew as well as they did that I was in the wrong place. My instinct told me that I did not want to be grouped with the slaves, however, and I wondered why none of the women had ratted me out to the soldiers. I decided that perhaps none of them spoke Babylonian.

By now the sun had climbed in the sky and the morning was heating up quickly. Some of the boats were already being loaded with plunder from the Mari palace, and more followed behind us on the backs of soldiers and porters. I was very doubtful that there would be space in these boats for all of the Mari hoard, never mind the other spoils and the soldiers themselves. I would never know this, as the captive women and myself were pushed aboard one of the boats, accompanied by two soldiers, and before long the sails were unfurled and the prow of the vessel was pushing out into the middle of the broad, sparkling river.

Thus began my journey to Babylon.

I have no real idea how many days we spent on that river. It may have been a couple of weeks, or possibly a couple of months. Perhaps it was a month. It's not that I wasn't especially keeping track of time. It was the monotony. The days began to blur into one-another to the point where I couldn't figure out if my most recent memory of eating was from that morning or the previous morning.

By the end of the second day, it appeared that the whole fleet had reassembled, and the trail of boats continued far down river out of sight. After a day of sailing, or simply drifting if there was no wind to speed us along, as the sun began to set the fleet would moor up along the river bank and we would disembark for dinner, sleep on bare earth under crude tents, and wake before dawn to eat again and board the boats once more. Then there were just the long hours of sitting, sleeping, and watching the unchanging river bank as it slunk past across the water.

The sun blazed down and I was grateful for the elevated canopy erected across the hull of the boat, casting gentle shade over its cramped occupants. As well as this, one had only to lean over the side and dip one's hand into the warm river for an endless supply of fresh drinking water.

Perhaps this all sounds very pleasant. But as I said, before long this continuous cycle and activity vacuum brought down a cloud of crushing boredom, which was bad enough in itself, but it left me in the company of something much worse – my own thoughts.

Once my shock at my new situation had subsided, I was finally able to really dwell upon the events that had brought me there. I couldn't get the image of Amunnefer's dead, sightless eyes and slack, bloodied mouth out of my head. I remembered her touch, her beauty, and her voice. The grief hung heavy in my stomach and I spent the first few days – or weeks – curled up in the bottom of the boat, weeping and moaning and without appetite.

After some time, I realised that I was also crying for everything I had lost – my beloved, my home, my life...and my brother. I hated him for letting this happen to me. But I missed him horribly. I also cursed Grandfather Chiron, but even for him I felt remorse.

Then, after some indefinable time, I surfaced from my grief and remembered the other pain in my stomach which was unrelated to my mind. I started to wonder what lay in store for me at the end of this journey. The sting in my heart became obscured by a dull lurking fear. I was once more being borne away by water in the company of strangers and soldiers, to an indistinct destination and future.

For the first time I started to pay a little more interest to the people I was sharing the boat with. There were two soldiers with us at all times. They, like all the others, had dark hair in tight curls and long beards which were woven in tight little braids. Their helmets were shiny but their white robes were grubby, and the smell of their unwashed bodies was repugnant. Despite this I wanted very much to talk to them and ask what was going to happen to me. But I didn't – partly because I was afraid of them, but mostly because I was afraid to find out.

I was also acutely aware that the other members of Zimrilim's family, with whom I shared the boat, did not like me. Even though we were all suffering the same hardships, they knew that I was not really one of them, that I was a slave, and they did not try to hide their scorn for me. I was grateful that they did not share a common language with the soldiers, or I may have found myself moved to one of the overcrowded and un-shaded boats full of slaves, servants and other lesser spoils, that occasionally passed us in the fleet. If this journey was difficult for us, it was nothing in comparison to how they suffered. Many died during the long voyage, and most of the others were sold at stops along the way or exchanged for food and other provisions. I hoped desperately to avoid that fate. But even though my hostile companions could not rat me out directly, I still worried that the soldiers would notice how different I looked from the rest of the family, and their suspicions would be roused.

I noticed that I was not the only one in the boat who was apart from the rest. A pretty young thing that I recognised as one of the late King's daughters was there alone without her mother, whom I presumed had been killed during the sacking of the palace. None of the other wives had taken her in with their own daughters, and she mostly sat alone and tearful, huddled up or just staring blankly ahead as if her mind was elsewhere. She had large almond shaped eyes that sloped gently upwards, and were as blue as mine, but her smooth hair was as dark as her father's, spiralled with gentle waves and curls. Her pretty mouth pouted and her jaw trembled. I guessed her to be about ten years old. I thought that perhaps if I sat with her, the soldiers might take us as sisters by virtue of the unusual eye colour we shared.

I moved closer to her until our shoulders touched. I asked quietly, "What is your name?"

She didn't answer. I hesitated, and then put my arm around her shoulder, feeling her stiffen a little at my unsolicited touch. "Come on, don't be afraid of me. Tell me your name."

After a pause, she spoke very softly, and I could only just hear her over the slosh as we slid through the water.

"Tejen."

"I'm going to look after you now Tejen. You are my sister. My name is La. Don't be afraid. Do you understand?"

She did not respond at first, but then gave a small nod. She did not look at me. I kept my arm around her though so that we were pressed tightly together and after some time her body slackened a little and she rested her head on my shoulder. She trusted me. She was so innocent.

After that, I found that wherever I was I did not need to look for Tejen as she was always with me, whether we were sleeping, eating, or just sitting in the boat. She spoke seldom, and I did not encourage her much, but she told me that her mother was a nomad who had been snatched by Zimrilim's soldiers during a raid into her homeland, by some great and far-away northern inland sea. She'd been carried away for the King as the soldiers had been astonished by her blue eyes and her beauty. I told Tejen she was pretty too, and it seemed to make her happy. She let me put both of my arms around her waist and brush her ear with my lips. The women in the boat watched and narrowed their eyes, but they were not troubled enough to remark upon it.

But I the dull, persistent edge of dread still grated against my insides and I could no longer bear this endless waiting, and not knowing what was coming. So one afternoon, just as the fleet was getting underway and all were settling down to another day in limbo, I steeled myself. I had chosen my spot in the boat close to one of our bearded chaperones. With Tejen (as always) resting her head on my shoulder, I took a deep breath and looked the man in the face.

"Sir. Excuse me, sir." I said in Babylonian.

The soldier looked at me with great surprise. So did everyone else. I pressed on.

"Will you tell me what is to become of us?"

He smiled. I do not think he meant it to be unpleasant, but it was. He had lost his front four teeth at some point, and they had been replaced with a set of gold ones. The effect was unsettling.

"Child, how is it that you speak the language of Babylon, when no other amongst your family is able?"

I had foreseen this question and was prepared for it. "It amuses me to learn the tongues of the neighbouring lands. Father allowed it and provided me with a teacher."

"You miss your home very much, I fear." His tone did not reflect the apparent sympathy of his words, and the informal manner in which he addressing me – merely as 'child' rather than something more appropriate for the daughter of a king – was not lost on me. "Well, when we arrive in Babylon in a few days I imagine you will all be sold into brothels. Maybe some of you young ones will be bought privately if you catch some well-to-do man's eye. It depends who is at the market on that day." He smiled, and felt no shame in allowing his gaze to wonder over my body. I felt cold.

"Please," I said as I tried to dampen my suddenly dry mouth, "please don't let me – my sister and I – don't let us go into brothels. We would much sooner do housework or some other labour. I beg of you!"

"Oh, come now – it's not such a hard life! You'll be fed and cared for – they'll want to keep you pretty for the clientele, after all." He grinned.

But his words brought me no comfort. I just felt sick.

"Please. Anything else but that. You're an important man, I can see that – you can help us. Please, what can I do to persuade you? There must be something I can do."

I _was_ desperate. I did my best to rearrange my features into an alluring expression, then reached over and rested my hand on his bare knee. I knew that the eyes of the entire boat were boring into me. I felt humiliated.

He leant forward and grasped my arm. I did my best not to flinch at the touch. I noticed that Tejen had shrunk back from me a little and was watching uncertainly. The soldier was looking me up and down in contemplation.

"Tell me, who was it that gave you this most interesting colour of hair? Was it your mother, or was there some white-haired stranger who came to amuse her while your father was away one day?" he said, and then laughed at his own lewd joke. I saw that he took pleasure in my humiliation, but the intended sting missed its mark as I knew I was deceiving him.

"It was our mother," I told him, "but she is dead now."

"And so is your father. It is a shame. You know, if he hadn't been killed then our King in Babylon had intended to give your family a house in his city. But, it would seem that some of our men became rather over excited – I'm not surprised though, after so long travelling. There will be trouble for them when we return."

"But – why will your king not offer us the same courtesy he would have offered our father? The house in your city?"

His eyebrows furrowed in perplexity, and then he laughed.

"Oh – child! How foolish a thought...for what reason would he burden himself with this gaggle of womenfolk? Of what consequence are they to him?"

I didn't know how to respond. His answer was of course obvious, and revealed the naiveté and presumption that I still possessed despite all I had heretofore experienced to the contrary.

"Oh, but I can see that you are having difficulty adjusting to your new place in the world. I am not surprised – for it must be very dismal to think of all that you have lost, and to contemplate the new life before you. But perhaps there _is_ some way for me to grant you what you wished for after all."

"Oh, sir, you are most wise for seeing that life in a brothel would be impossible for my sister and I. You are both wise and very noble."

He slid his grip up my arm, and stroked my cheek with what he supposed was gentleness - but the roughness of the action showed me that such a thing was alien to him. What he said next was what I had dreaded, though nothing less than I had expected.

"Visit me tonight, when all the camp is quiet. I pity your plight, and so not only shall I grant your wish…but I will also help you to become accustomed to the ways and manners of those who were not born in a palace."

I can be grateful, at least, that he did not treat me violently. After all, I came to him willingly and resisted nothing of what he requested, however degrading. A bit of self-degradation was worth it – I thought – to spare myself from a lifetime of it. The Captain – for that is what he was – told me he would install Tejen and I in a large household he knew of where there were a great number of servants, and I thought – I admit, I hoped – that it would be much like life at been at the Mari palace. Each night when I returned to Tejen's side after leaving The Captain's tent, I comforted her by whispering about how we were lucky, and that things wouldn't be so bad for us. Though I do believe my words helped to quiet her fears, in truth I needed to repeat them to myself to help to forget my disgust and self-hatred for what I allowed to take place every night for the rest of that trip. I am grateful that he was not violent. Sexual violence was something I would become accustomed to only later.

Finally one evening there appeared in the distance the clusters of shimmering lights which signify human settlement. As our boat glided serenely beneath the arch of the soaring city wall, I remember feeling the pressing shadows of the city's buildings, lurking large but invisible in the moonless darkness. My heart froze momentarily as a felt a hand grip my own, but when I turned I found that of course it was only Tejen, whose blue eyes were wide and darting, lips pressed tightly together as she tried to peer into the blackness.

The river ran right through the centre of the city, and it was steeply banked so that as we moored up at the dock I had an acute impression of being at the bottom of a dark pit.

We climbed ashore, and The Officer and his companion escorted all of us through the dim, quiet streets between tightly packed buildings, until we came to an on ornate square fringed by small trees and lit by lamps and the light cast from the doorway of a drinking establishment. From inside there came the murmur of men's voices, punctuated by laughs and shouts. A fat man leaned out of the window and leered at us, causing wine to trickle from the corners of his mouth. When his eyes made contact with mine I averted my gaze and looked upwards to the un-shuttered window of the second floor, where the silhouette of a woman was framed. Her clothes were loose and hid little of what was beneath, and her face was heavily made up. She was watching us too, but unlike the drunk man her gaze was indifferent.

Our two soldiers were talking, and I understood that The Captain was suggesting to his subordinate that they each take half of our group and find buyers for us separately. The other soldier suggested keeping us together and taking us to the slave market the following morning, but The Captain dismissed this entirely sensible suggestion. Though the soldier was puzzled, I was sure that the reason he had chosen this more troublesome plan was so that he could keep his promise to me without having his actions observed or reported. I took this to be a good sign.

The group of captive womenfolk were separated by age and appearance; those who were deemed suitable for brothels, and the rest for domestic and manual labour. Several of the mothers were separated from their young daughters, and began to weep and tear at their hair. When one refused to let go of her child's hand, The Captain hit her in the face with the butt of his spear. The woman fell down, and did not protest further as the subordinate dragged her to her feet.

The little girls cried and called for their mothers as they saw them escorted from the square. Tejen too was crying, and held my arm tightly with both her hands. I could feel her firm little body trembling as she pressed herself as close as possible.

The Officer led us down an alley at the side of the bar, and knocked on a wooden door at the back. I was surprised when, presently, it was answered by a woman – well dressed and mature looking – who looked our group up and down impassively, and then turned to our chaperone.

"Good evening Captain, how may I help you?"

"Good evening Madam." He bowed extravagantly. "I was wondering of you are looking for some new girls?"

"I might be." She leant against the doorframe with folded arms. "How much?" She raised her eyebrows and studied us each once more in turn. Her eyes lingered on me and my long white hair a little more than the others. "How much for this one?" She pointed at a pretty, slim girl to my right. The girl's eyes widened and she looked about uncertainly. Unable to comprehend the conversation, she could only have guessed at what was going on.

"Fifteen-thousand for that one."

"Don't be ridiculous. Is she a virgin?"

"Yes of course Madam, and very pretty as you can see. Well worth the price." He puffed out his chest and crossed his arms confidently. The woman raised her eyebrows at him.

"I've never paid more than eight-thousand for even more beautiful virgins than her."

"Ah – but she's a princess, Madam. They all are." He waived his arm in a grandiose fashion. "We've just brought this collection back from a distant conquest. Your clients will find their well-bred manners and exotic ways most pleasing."

"Hmm. Do they speak Babylonian?"

"Uh, well no they don't," he tugged at his ear lobe, "– but after all, your clients aren't paying to talk to'em! Actually, I think they will be more appreciative of girls who won't-"

"But how will their clients be able to tell them what they want?" She bent towards him and threw out her hand emphatically. The Captain rubbed the back of his neck and pursed his lips, evidently searching for a new angle.

"I'll do twelve-thousand. They are princesses after all, and virgins." His tone was full of forced cheerfulness.

"Make it ten-thousand." She crossed her arms and tilted back her head. "That's still two-thousand more than I normally pay."

"Sold." He smiled, flashing those gold teeth, evidently pleased with his bargaining.

"How much for that one." The woman pointed at me. I felt a coldness in my chest and looked at The Captain. He frowned.

"Ah, unfortunately this one ain't for sale. Someone else already bought her and this other one." He thrust a thumb over his shoulder towards Tejen.

"How much did they pay?" She was still looking at me, eyes wide with interest. She was looking at my hair again, and I attempted to hide it by pushing it behind my ears. "I'll give you fourteen-thousand for her if she's a virgin."

"Fourteen-thousand y'say." To my dismay, The Captain looked like he was tempted to take the extremely generous offer. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, I might be able to –"

"I'm not a virgin." I piped up, looking the woman in the eye. She raised her eyebrows once more, then turned to The Captain.

"There's no point in trying to lie you know – I _always_ check them myself before parting with the money."

"Of course, Madam." He held his hands palm up and bowed his head.

"If she's not a virgin, my offer will not be so generous. The best I can do is four-thousand." Her tone was sharp.

"Well…in that case, as I said before Madam, I'm afraid she ain't for sale."

"I see." There was just a tinge of disappointment in her voice. "Alright - which of the rest of them are virgins?"

In the end, the woman bought six of the younger girls, and we waited while she examined them to see if their unspoiled status was indeed intact. Then she had a clay tablet made out to credit The Captain with the agreed sum, and he left the place looking satisfied, with those of us that remained in tow.

I felt worried at how ready The Captain had seemed to break his promise to me in exchange for the woman's offer. However, I reminded myself that when she'd made a lower offer he had refused, so perhaps he was not so ready to break his word.

Still, as we traipsed from one establishment to another I kept to the back of the group, hoping there would be no more favourable offers made for me. I needn't have worried. We visited a number of brothels, each one progressively less well-kept than the previous. It was clear that The Captain was familiar with the route and knew which places would pay more generously, and which he'd have to concede to a lower price for, and with each stop our number dwindled until the last of Zimrilim's daughters was left, wide-eyed and trembling, to be steered away into a dark establishment by its hulking male owner. Finally, it was just Tejen and I alone with The Captain. He had not sold either of us.

Now though, he led us silently back through the cool, stone-paved streets, until we found ourselves at the opening of an alleyway. I saw his pupils slide sideways to look at me, and I thought I knew what was going to come next.

"You know," he said, breathing a little more shallowly than usual. "There was nothing to stop me from selling you to one of the brothels. I could have got really good money for you. But I didn't."

I knew that this was not strictly true, but I had no desire to make things worse for myself.

"Thank you." I bowed my head, meekly. Through his clothes, even in the dark I could see his erection.

"I think you should do something to compensate me. Or maybe," he turned his lascivious gaze on Tejen, licking his lips, "maybe I'll have a go with your little sister." He reached for his groin, moving forwards. I felt my face flush and a little hot spike of anger. Behind me, Tejen let go of my arm and shrank backwards away from him.

"No!" I stepped between them. "I-I'll do it." I forced my expression to become even, and placed my spread palm against his torso. "I know how to do what you want." I looked up into his eyes.

He put his hand behind my head and stroked my neck. It was almost tender, but I recognised the lust in his grasping movements. He pushed me down onto my knees, and freed his erection from his clothes. I took it in my mouth. I remember now how he liked to push it right to the back of my throat so that I was almost swallowing it, and the stale-urine taste of it, and the sound of his moans and grunts. I knew when he was about to climax, because he'd start thrusting against my face, short, fast thrusts, and then the clear feeling of the hot, salty liquid running down the back of my throat. Even after he'd finished, he would leave it in there for a while, just rolling his hips a little and enjoying being in my mouth, before finally, mercifully, letting the limp organ slide from my lips and flop back inside his clothes.

I tried not to make my disgust obvious as I retched and spat out the contents of my mouth, but he had already turned away, his interest in me evaporating as quickly as his lust. As I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, I glanced over at Tejen who had her back pressed up against one of the alleyway's walls. She was staring at me, eyes very wide and round, and her chin quivered slightly.

The Captain was walking away from us. The moon was long-gone from the sky, and pre-dawn light illuminated the alleyway for the first time. I stepped towards Tejen, holding out my hand towards her. She didn't take it. She just kept staring at me, as if the new pale light had revealed something strange in my appearance. I grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind me. She did not try to pull away.

We followed The Captain out of the alley and across a wide, paved road. The sky was now milky with pre-dawn light. With his vile taste still in my mouth, I wondered what had possessed me to volunteer myself in place of Tejen. An impulsive act of nobility? Or was it, perhaps, possessiveness? I pondered this, and realised suddenly that I was exhausted. It didn't matter. I'd kept up my side of the deal with The Captain, and now he was keeping his. I wouldn't have to see his face or suffer my revulsion of him any longer.

We now stood before a great stone wall which stretched away from us in both directions down the street. It was broken only by a large, solid wooden gate, which The Captain now pounded with his fist.

I could hear movement on the other side, then a creaking sound and the gate opened a chink. In the gloom I caught the glint of an eye.

"Captain?"

"Yep."

The gate opened wider, revealing a soldier holding a spear. He saluted The Captain who nodded to him in return, and the three of us passed him as we stepped over the threshold into a wide, bare-earth courtyard.

"What are we doing here, sister?" Tejen quaked, gripping my arm tightly while her wide eyes glanced this way and that. Giving no reply, I too peered into the gloom.

This was, clearly, not someone's house. As if the presence of a soldier were not evidence enough, I sensed from the bare, hulking appearance of the building before us that it had a far more utilitarian purpose. The expansive yard before us was bordered on three sides by a featureless straight-edged edifice. There were no breaks in it at all but for a few wooden doors, and the place was utterly devoid of beautification; where the courtyards of other places we had visited that night had featured trees, gardens and little water channels among the neat stone paving, all that was here was bare earth and an oppressive quiet.

And a smell. A smell that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. A smell I remembered from the fusty tents of the desert merchants who had carried me across the dunes, and had become accustomed to on the long boat-journey down the river from Mari. From the night the King had visited Amunnefer's bedchamber, and from the many nights spent in company of The Captain. The smell of unwashed bodies, sweat, musk, and stale clothing.

It was the smell of men.

I tried to speak. My mouth was dry. I swallowed. A cold mist swirled in my head. I tried again.

"Wh..what…?"

The Captain said nothing. Neither did he turn to me. Instead he marched purposefully across the yard, jerking his hand in the air to gesture that we should follow.

I did. It's not as if I had any choice. I squeezed Tejen's hand a little more firmly, and the two of us followed our dubious shepherd to one of the building's wooden doors, and inside into complete darkness.

I knew I had been tricked, but I also knew this place could not be a brothel. Though I could not yet discern the nature of my new home, I had my suspicions. Despite myself, I began to marvel at my own gullibility in striking this bargain with The Captain; after all, I had no power to hold him to his word. Neither, I imagined, would there have been much to stop him taking from me what he already had done on those nights at the bank of the river. I or one of the other girls. I had just made it easy for him.

In the darkness all I could hear were our footfalls, The Captain's heavy breaths and Tejen's quick and shallow ones. That smell was even stronger now. The air tasted sour. I shivered. As we tiptoed through narrow passageways and down stone steps, my eyes began to adjust to the dark and I discerned bunks stacked up against the walls, laden with sleeping bodies. I recognised the features of a kitchen; there were tables, wooden crates and barrels, and large clay pots; and one intended to cater to a horde at that. It supported my deduction that this was, indeed, an army barracks.

I stopped walking because The Captain had stopped. He rapped his knuckles sharply against the wooden frame of a curtained opening, and then without waiting for a response brushed the material aside. He stepped through, but I waited there, feeling the pinch of little Tejen's nails as she squeezed my arm with both hands.

Inside the room, which was lit by a low lamp, The Captain approached a single bunk and kicked at the frame of it with his boot. This roused the man who had until that moment been soundly sleeping, but who now stirred noisily with much irritation, then swung his legs out from the tangle of seedy blankets.

"Huh…whajou want?" He rubbed his face, and I could hear the scratching of bristly hairs against his palms.

"Hey…the sun might not be up yet, but day or night I am still 'Captain' to you…so behave accordingly. I've got something important for you to do for me."

"Oh yeah?" He was still a little bleary eyed. He had not noticed the presence of either Tejen or I.

"_Yeah_." The Captain crossed his arms.

"What are you doing here at this fucking hour anyway? I thought all your lot got back here last night."

"That's of no concern to you, you stinking old goat. Better you attend to my instructions. Are you listening?"

"Better _you_ first pass me that there pipe. You'll have no sense out of me before then. _Captain_." He inclined his head but I sensed no sincerity in the meek gesture. The Captain was clearly irked, but wordlessly retrieved the narrow wooden pipe and handed it to the shabby man, who filled it from a pouch in his robes and lit it from the oil lamp. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, then released the vapour. Again. Twice more. "Aaahhh." The sound was deep, rumbling and throaty, like a purr. He grinned up at The Captain, who fidgeted with impatience. "Now…you have my full attention, sir."

"Look 'ere," The Captain extended an arm towards the doorframe, towards _us_, "see them?" The shabby man looked at us, eyes trying to focus in the gloom. "I've got you some fresh meat. Come here." This last was directed to us.

I took a step into the room. Tejen was behind me.

"What have you got there?" The shabby man grinned again, eyes glinting as he looked us up and down. "Some little pretties."

"Now you listen carefully. That one there with the silver hair," he pointed at me, "you can have her do whatever you please. Kitchen, cleaning, porting – she's yours. But the little one there…I want her kept unspoiled. You keep her here, but make sure she's still pretty for when The General returns. And you make sure the boys keep their hands off, alright?"

"Now, what's brought on this surge of generosity eh?" The tone was falsely innocent, and there was a wicked glint in his eye. "You angling for a promotion by any chance, Captain?"

"I thought The General might appreciate the gesture." His pitch rose spryly, losing a little of the supercilious as gave the man a conspiratorial wink.

"It'll probably help to soften The General's temper when he hears how badly you fucked up your mission too." He nonchalantly took another drag from his pipe.

The Captain's face became immediately stony.

"Now listen here you opium-addled swine. Just do as I say."

"Of course, Captain." The shabby man's face remained serene. "So the little one; what do you expect me to do with her exactly?"

"That's your problem…give her light work if you want, but nothing to spoil her pretty looks. And remember what I said about the other soldiers."

"Right you are...what about the other one? She used goods?"

"She's a right little whore, this one." The Captain grinned and put his hand on the top of my head, grasping at my hair with his fingers, and I tore free in disgust. I wanted to run away from there. My feet were almost moving by themselves. But I knew there was no point. The place was full of soldiers, and there were armed guards at the walls.

The shabby man was eyeing me and chuckling along with The Captain.

"So have I made my instructions clear?"

"Oh yes Captain. Leave them with me, I'll see to it."

"Good. Then I'm going home; I'll need to freshen up before the de-briefing in the morning. It's been a pleasure as ever."

The shabby man bowed his head and The Captain turned and left. He didn't look at me. I wondered if he could feel the rage that was boiling out of me. Not rage at him. Rage at myself. For having come this far and still been too stupid to foresee this.

I became dimly aware once more of the other two people in the room. Tejen was swaying a little on her feet. The shabby man who had been smiling as he watched The Captain leave now allowed his face to fall into a scowl, still glaring at the empty frame through which his superior had disappeared.

"What does that cunt think I'm running here, a guesthouse? _Light work_ my arse. If he wants to slime his way into The General's pocket he can do it on his own time. The cunt." Then his focus returned to Tejen and I. "Do either of you little pretties speak Babylonian?"

I wondered for a moment if there would be any benefit to be had from playing dumb, but I could not see any.

"I do. _She_ only speaks Amorite."

"Oh, it just gets better and better." He rubbed his face with his palms. "Well you're going to have to tell her what's expected of her. But as far as I'm concerned, that's a problem for tomorrow. I'm fucking knackered." He yawned widely without covering his mouth, treating us both to a pungent cloud of his breath. "Right, come with me, you better get some rest."

He led us back out into the dark corridors and found a bunk for us in the gloom. There was no lamp here, but I felt the presence of all those bodies in the dark, the slow heavy breathing the hot animal smell of them.

Together on the hard bunk, Tejen pressed her warm little body close against mine, and I supposed that her exhaustion must have outweighed her fear as before long she was still and limp. I on the other hand did not find sleep, even though my limbs ached from tiredness. I lay still in the dark, and somehow my swirling, darting thoughts fell to tracing the origin of the path that had led me to this dark place.

Would things have been better had I never spoken to The Captain? Probably not.

What if I had not found myself amongst the King's family aboard the boat? Almost certainly not.

If I had held my temper that last night in the King's presence? Who could tell…

If I had held it in the face of my Grandfather…

Somewhere out in the street a dog barked, and there was a creaking sound as the body in the bunk above me shifted, then began to snore noisily.

I tightened my hold around Tejen's body and I knew, really, that this state of affairs was entirely my own making.


End file.
